So it’s the end of the first week at my new school here in London. It’s been ok, except the fact that everyone here is dressed exceptionally well. Made some friends…and already some enemies.
Major drama on the first day of school.
There’s this senior and rugby player Barton Sullivan — he has a serious temper…
My new friend Jack (totally decent guy) saw Barton bullying this kid Erwin. He was flicking Erwin’s glasses off his face over and over. Typical teen bullying. How sad. Jack saw what was happening. He then jumped in-between the two to stop the fight.
Barton took that as another cue to beat up a student. He stood over Jack, smiling. Jack totally flung his fist into Barton’s face, and then casually gave him some tissues for his nosebleed. And THEN he requested an apology!
Everyone was watching.
Barton then did something totally unexpected. He apologized. I think he was impressed that someone had the guts to stand up to him…and stand up for someone else, like Erwin. Also, it’s just not cool to beat up another cool person.
A few days later I saw Jack and Barton hanging out. Total surprise.
An exciting first week.
Now all I have to worry about is the Halloween Masquerade Ball at my school, on my birthday…
I don’t have a date. And I don’t dance (EVER!) in front of people even if I did have a date.
So many different feelings inside me.
And we’ve only JUST started the year.
Enough writing for now…I need to open the window to let some air in this room.
I’m here. In London. Central London. We live in an apartment on Royal Street. It’s been over a week already and I still can’t believe it. I’m a little stressed and a little freaked out. My mom was from London. Know what’s weird? As soon as I went on online I found this song. It’s the same song my mom always sang to me when I was a kid. It’s the same song my mom always played as we danced around the living room. It’s a sixties band called The Zombies. That’s like in the olden days. The name of the song is She’s Not There!
I sang it a lot when I was a kid. My mom sang it with me. I won’t sing it anymore.
I listened to this other girl sing the song and it made me cry my eyes out.
I start school tomorrow. I am so freaking out.
I had lots of friends at my old school. Some superclose friends too. We told each other everything. I even told them about my panic attacks. They don’t judge. But now they’re back in America.
And now I have to meet new people and prove that I am not some dork or basket case and find a way to make friends without appearing desperate—even though I do feel desperate!
And what if I start hyperventilating in the middle of a class and feel the need to run out? Ugh.
Any way, here’s the song…
(It’ll probably make me cry again so I’m going to stop writing for today. Because I want to hear the song again)
Today we move. From New York to London. My dad’s company is paying for me to attend a school in London with a US curriculum. The Kingshire American School in London. Ugh.
Our flight leaves at 5:15 PM. I can’t believe I am saying that. I am leaving behind my friends. I am leaving behind a pretty cool public high school, for some uppity private school where I won’t know a single soul. Bigwig diplomats, athletes, and even rock stars send their kids to this school. My dad is just an ordinary Papa Bear (my nickname for him)!
I hate flying. The thought of not being able to get off the plane kinda makes me nervous. Okay, real nervous. Especially when we are half way across the Atlantic.
Just writing about it makes me feel breathless.
I hate my fears. Sometimes, when I’m in a mall, I freak out if I ‘m far from an exit. It’s hard to breath and I get panicky. It goes away when I find the exit and I run outside. I googled my symptoms once. It’s called agoraphobia. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, including Dillon Slater.
Think I’ll stop writing for today.
There’s a thunderstorm outside. Kind of fitting. I’m not having the best day. I’m feeling kind of anxious. All I want to do is crawl into bed with a good book and ignore the world. I guess there is something soothing about when the weather reflects your mood. We learned about that in Lit class. I think it’s called pathetic fallacy?
Anyway, the power is out and so I’m sitting here writing by candlelight. My dad lit candles throughout our apartment. Kind of cool right? Like in the old days? (I mean, I’m only 13, so I guess I don’t really know what the ‘old’ days felt like…but I can use my imagination!)
This is my first blog. It’s kinda like a journal. I want to write about my family’s move from New York to London and jot down my experiences. I thought today would be a good day to start.
Today also happens to be my mom’s birthday. Not that I care that much. She basically kinda disappeared four years ago. My 10th birthday. Actually on my 10th birthday. Haven’t seen her since. I think I remember police coming to the house. I also remember thinking she walked out on us. Lately, I kinda think my dad has been in denial all these years and that’s what really happened.
She’s 47 now.
Dad doesn’t really talk about it. And I don’t really remember the details, and I’m sort of glad about that. She’s missing so much of my life. Her loss.
I admit, there were some good memories. I guess. We used to read “Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There.” I remember falling asleep to the sound of her voice reciting “The Walrus and The Carpenter”. That story still makes me laugh, it’s so full of nonsense. Sort of like the nonsense it would take to leave your daughter behind?
Anyway, I don’t have time to worry about that anymore. As I noted, my dad, my kid sister Natalie and I are moving to London later this month. Ugh.
(How totally weird if tonight was the night my mom came back home. Yeah right.)
It’s so dark in our apartment now, even with all the candles. If I baked a birthday cake, there’s certainly enough candles to put on it.